


surprises and secrecy

by imadetheline



Series: learning, little by little [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Pray For Piett, he needs a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 01:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30013827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: Admiral Piett really didn't expect to discover anyone related to Darth Vader, much less a son.
Relationships: Firmus Piett & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Series: learning, little by little [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100993
Comments: 16
Kudos: 110





	surprises and secrecy

**Author's Note:**

> this is really short but i haven't posted anything for a few days and i felt bad but I'm still recovering from febuwhump. also i kinda want to turn this series into a whole au rewrite of rotj so we'll see if i ever get around to it but here's another piece
> 
> kinda written for this prompt: "Hey! I have a prompt idea from you, and I always love fics that have this in them! The prompt is: Pray for Piett!"  
> not sure how well it fits but oh well it's very late and I'm tired. pls enjoy

Piett strides down the hall quickly, ignoring the nods of troopers as he passes. He doesn’t have time for them right now. He turns down another hall, heading steadily for Lord Vader’s private medbay, even as he runs through everything that he needs to do before his shift is over in an attempt to push back the fear festering in the corners of his mind. Lord Vader’s summoned him, and though it’s not the first time, there’s always the possibility that it will be the last. But his Commander hasn’t been on the Executor for the past few days, though that information is known only to Piett--some secret mission he’d told Piett in no uncertain terms to keep under wraps.

But now he’s returned, to the medbay no less, which doesn’t bode well for his mood… or Piett’s chances of survival. But Piett is nothing if not professional, so his step doesn’t falter as he presses the button for the private medbay and steps inside the dark room, his chin held high and hands clasped behind his back.

To his surprise, Lord Vader is standing upright, seemingly unharmed, beside a figure laying on a cot. Piett can’t see the figure’s face from his position by the door, but as he watches, Vader turns, his hand falling away from the bed as if he was reassuring himself that the person is there. Piett’s never seen the man commit such a human act, and he prides himself on staying out of anything that doesn’t concern him--it’s why he’s lived so long--but his curiosity is piqued as to who could inspire this kind of display from the terrifying Darth Vader.

But he just straightens his back as the skeletal mask lands on him, respirator echoing in the silence, and locks all his curiosity and emotions into a box at the back of his mind, “You sent for me, my lord?” His voice is steady and controlled from years of practice and doesn’t waver.

And Darth Vader’s presence fills every room he steps into, dousing the room in ice and causing hairs to rise on every neck. Except it’s strangely absent here. The medbay is dim, but it’s not cold, and Vader seems smaller than normal, more like a person than a god. Piett doesn’t relax, though.

“Yes,” the vocoder hisses, but he doesn’t say anything else. Nor does he cross the room; he just raises a gloved hand and gestures Piett closer, his mask already tilting back down to look at the body in the bed.

Piett doesn’t hesitate, stepping across the room past the bacta tank, his boots echoing against the metal, to stand beside Vader. The towering Commander is still looking down at the figure, so Piett risks a small glance down as well. 

And quickly does a mental double-take because the blond-haired figure lying peacefully asleep in the bed with tattered clothes and bandages wrapped around his arms and one of his legs looks suspiciously like the Luke Skywalker that Vader’s been on a rampage to find and killed half the bridge crew over. But Piett’s had a lot of time to practice schooling his expression, and he’s slightly proud when a slight raise of his eyebrow is the only reaction he gives in response to seeing the person who blew up the Death Star healing in Lord Vader’s private medbay. He glances back up to his Commander, but the man seems like he’s already forgotten Piett’s there, his gaze fixed firmly on Skywalker’s face.

So Piett clears his throat, hoping he’s not signing his death warrant, “My Lord?”

The mask jerks around to stare at him, and Piett carefully doesn’t take a step back, though his mind is yelling at him to flee as he stares down the entity of death before him. But the instinct quickly fades because Vader’s edge seems dulled, here beside this boy’s bedside. Because it  _ is _ a boy. Piett had never truly thought about his age but seeing him here, injured and asleep… He’s so young. It’s hard to believe that he took the shot that destroyed the Death Star.

The respirator hisses again, and Piett waits, shoulders back, for his Commander to speak. But when he does, it’s not at all what Piett was expecting.

“He’s my son.”

Piett’s mind stops for a second, recalibrating with this new, unexpected information, trying to rearrange everything he knows about Skywalker, the Rebel hero, and everything he knows about Lord Vader, the terror of the galaxy who he’s now certain he just witnessed standing beside his injured  _ son’s _ bedside, seemingly worried about him.

He’s actually glad when Vader seems to gather his thoughts quicker and speak first because he still hasn’t figured out how to respond to that statement. “His presence on board the Executor needs to be kept secret at all costs” --there’s static from the vocoder for a moment that Piett’s not sure how to interpret as Vader turns back to stare down at his son-- “for obvious reasons.” The vocoder lowers to a hiss, “Tell no one.”

The mask remains firmly fixed on the rise and fall of Skywalker’s chest, but Piett continues looking at Vader as he nods, his feet stuck to the floor as his Commander continues, “He’ll be staying in the quarters attached to mine. I trust you to do everything possible to ensure his safety, Admiral. Assign him a security detail of the best troops you have, uniforms, anything you can think of to keep him safe.”

Piett nods blankly, processing the information and already running through the list of precautions he’s going to have to instate, “Yes, my lord. Anything else?”

Vader just waves a hand dismissively, seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from his son, so Piett salutes and pivots towards the door before Vader’s temper has a chance to rise, his mind whirling. 

His fingers are halfway to the door controls when Vader’s voice rings out again like thunder, icily cold, and Piett freezes, “The Emperor is unaware of Skywalker’s presence here. And it will remain that way, Admiral. Understood?”

There’s a pause where the ice creeps down Piett’s spine, and he can feel the tension that’s descended upon the room, his fingers still extended towards the door, unable to move. He knows what those words mean, knows this is treason, but his loyalty’s never been to the Emperor. It’s first and foremost to Lord Vader and the Empire they both serve. So his voice is steady when he speaks--a small miracle in itself, “Yes, my lord.”

“Good,” is all Vader says, and suddenly the tension is gone, as if sucked up by a black hole, leaving nothing but the circulated air and dim lights of the medbay around him. And he finds his fingers once again capable of moving, so he hits the door controls, perhaps harder than he should have. But then he’s stepping out of the medbay, and his breathing comes easier, tension leaking from his shoulders as the door slides shut behind him with a quiet hiss.

He nods at a passing ensign, adjusting his uniform and wishing he could adjust his thoughts just as easily, but even now, they’re tumbling over one another, jostling for a position at the front of his mind. But he’s still the Admiral of the Executor, and that means he has things to do. 

  
But he quickly decides his first priority is the new, discrete safety protocols for the _very ordinary_ _tech_ that’s just been hired to assist Lord Vader in his private hangar. Yes, that should work as a disguise for the time being. He’ll have the uniforms sent to the medbay for the boy immediately. And he’ll think about everything else over a glass of Corellian whiskey after his shift tonight. He straightens his shoulders, schooling his expression, and starts walking swiftly back to the bridge. Perhaps he’d better make it two glasses.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other stories send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. Info about me and all my other tumblrs are [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


End file.
